


mysterious mistletoe

by tonystarktrash



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Pre-Iron Man 1, perhaps they kiss and never speak of it again... perhaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28253985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonystarktrash/pseuds/tonystarktrash
Summary: Pepper had become increasingly livid with him, her verbal reminders had transformed into slightly passive-aggressive Post-It notes left behind on the toilet seat in his private bathroom, on the screen of his workshop computer, and on the locked door to the liquor cabinet found above the bookshelf in his Stark Industries office (‘You’ll get the key back when the paperwork is done – P’). There had even been one pressed to his forehead yesterday when he had awoken, inexplicably, on the floor of the living room, naked but for the throw rug mercifully wrapped around him. Somehow, Pepper had coaxed his one-night stand out of the house, tidied up the living room, made a pot of coffee, and paused to scrawl out a note and stick it directly between his eyes (‘I hear paperwork is sexy. You should do that next. – P’).uh oh, is that mistletoe? tldr; they kiss.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	mysterious mistletoe

Tony’s pen stills at the end of the signature line, the knuckles of his left hand digging into his forehead, attempting to beat back a migraine that has been increasing in intensity with each page he signs.

“What am I doing?” His voice is hoarse from disuse — he has been sat behind his desk since 6 o’clock this morning. Tony had slunk his way through the darkened building like a thief, dodging the security guards on each floor — the only employees working at Stark Industries on Christmas Eve, except for Tony Stark himself.

The alternative to going to the office had been, of course, a party. A party that would lead to drinking, drugs, sex — all three things sounding absolutely irresistible when he had considered the idea this morning. But then, Christmas Day would bring immense shame and a terrible hangover — he certainly isn’t as young as he used to be. For once in his life, Tony had decided that the immediate gratification wasn’t worth the substantial pain that would come later. So here he sits, on Christmas Eve, nearing midnight, signing paperwork he had been putting off for at least two calendar weeks. Pepper had become increasingly livid with him, her verbal reminders had transformed into slightly passive-aggressive Post-It notes left behind on the toilet seat in his private bathroom, on the screen of his workshop computer, and on the locked door to the liquor cabinet found above the bookshelf in his Stark Industries office (‘You’ll get the key back when the paperwork is done – P’). There had even been one pressed to his forehead yesterday when he had awoken, inexplicably, on the floor of the living room, naked but for the throw rug mercifully wrapped around him. Somehow, Pepper had coaxed his one-night stand out of the house, tidied up the living room, made a pot of coffee, and paused to scrawl out a note and stick it directly between his eyes (‘I hear paperwork is sexy. You should do that next. – P’).

Tony grins, setting the pen down and shaking out his aching hand. She certainly has grown used to him — the Pepper Potts of five years ago would have burst into flames upon finding her boss naked and unconscious on the floor. Now she has the presence of mind to bug him whenever an opportunity presents itself.

“Consider this your Christmas gift, Pepper,” Tony murmurs as he places the final piece of paper on the stack in his out tray. He leans back against his chair, spinning slowly to face the floor-to-ceiling windows. Slowly massaging his knuckles, he searches the sky — for what, he’s not sure — Santa Claus, maybe? Finding nothing unusual, he sighs and gets to his feet. He’ll spend Christmas alone for the first time in years — though really, hasn’t he been spending Christmas alone since his parents died? Even if he spends it with Obie, or with Rhodey’s family, he always finds himself lurking at the edge of the happy, festive feelings everyone else seems to be enjoying. At least this year he’s being honest with himself, embracing the fact that he deserves to spend Christmas alone, that he only brings everyone down with his barely contained misery.

_I miss my parents._

Tony snorts, smacking his palm against the side of his leg as he walks towards the door. Okay, no drugs and no sex tonight — but he can have a drink or two, if only to keep those horrifically maudlin thoughts at bay.

He blinks as he steps out into the hallway, eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness. He navigates based on memory, which isn’t as good as he thought it was, because he walks immediately into a small table tucked against the wall and knocks over a priceless vase.

“Fuck,” Tony says as he surveys the vague outlines of shattered ceramic. Reaching down, he picks up a few pieces, setting them on the table.

Behind him, a door squeaks as it swings open, and Tony’s heart starts to race. _Oh fuck, it’s Krampus._

“Tony?” The hall lights flick on above him, and Tony stares disbelievingly over his shoulder at Pepper Potts where she stands in the doorway to her office.

“Pepper? What the hell are you doing here? It’s Christmas Eve.”

Pepper self-consciously tucks a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, teeth worrying her bottom lip for a split second. “I had work to do.”

“What could possibly — don’t you usually spend Christmas with your p-parents?” He stumbles over the word, fingers curling around the shard of ceramic in his hand, letting out a hiss of pain as blood splatters against the floor. The shard falls to the ground and breaks into smaller pieces, blood spilling from the shallow cuts at the level of the first joint of his fingers.

“Is that blood?” Pepper advances quickly towards him, heels clicking against the wood floor.

“It’s nothing, I just cut myself. Fucking — pot — knocked it over when I came out.”

Pepper surveys him, gently reaching out and plucking his red and green striped pocket square from his lapel. She takes his hand in hers and wraps the handkerchief around his fingers, knotting it quickly, Tony silently admiring the bright red nail polish adorning her long fingernails.

“I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was working.”

“I know that,” Pepper says, her green eyes focused on his hand, one fingertip gently trailing over one of the lines of his palm. “I took the liquor cabinet key, remember?” She lets his hand fall from hers, eyes meeting his before looking away quickly, a faint pink flush coloring her cheeks.

“Evil of you, by the way. Not very festive. If I had it, I’d offer you a nightcap, or a celebratory Christmas drink. But you’re headed home, right?”

Pepper nods, turning her head and glancing down the hallway at the elevator. “You?”

Tony smiles slightly, injured hand resting against the small of her back as he guides her towards the elevator. “You know me, Pep. I can only do a full day’s work once every six months. I’m exhausted.”

Pepper laughs quietly, pressing the button to summon the elevator. “I guess I should consider this my Christmas gift.”

“Oh, you could,” Tony replies, carefully pulling his hand away from her back as the elevator doors slide silently open, wishing his touch could linger forever. “But, y’know. You might find something under your tree tomorrow morning — not saying it’s from me, or anything. Expertly wrapped, which I hope you’ll admire for a few minutes before you tear it open.” A beautiful green dress that had stopped him dead in the middle of the street when he had last been in Manhattan, unable to get the image of Pepper Potts wearing it out of his head until he had re-emerged onto the street with the dress boxed up under his arm. 

“You shouldn’t have,” Pepper scolds him, but she’s smiling. Before they step into the elevator, her gaze flicks up, one eyebrow raising. “Is that mistletoe?”

Tony tips his head back, finding the small clump of greenery under the floor-indicator of the elevator. “Huh. They’ve never done that before.” Shrugging, he walks into the elevator with her, leaning back against the wall as the doors shut.

They stand together in companionable silence, the elevator chiming with each floor that they pass. Tony’s hand starts to sting, he lets out a sharp sigh as he unfurls his fingers to inspect the damage.

“It’s going to hurt the more you move it,” Pepper says, suddenly standing in front of him, her fingers pressing against his to get him to close his hand. “You should take a few ibuprofen when you get home, put some Neosporin on it…”

Tony nods wordlessly, brown eyes fixed on green — she should step away, they’ve reached the ground floor, the doors opening behind her. But she doesn’t.

Instead, her right hand raises and rests against his cheek, her thumb brushing against the arch of his cheekbone. Slowly, Pepper Potts leans in to him, her lips pressing against his. Tony doesn’t think he’s breathing, if he makes even the slightest movement, he’ll wake up on the living room floor again.

Her lips are soft, her kiss is gentle but there’s an underlying passion — Tony has the wildest idea that Pepper Potts had dragged a ladder out into the hallway while he had been working and hung the mistletoe herself, but that would be _ridiculous_.

Her forehead rests against his, she breaks the kiss with a soft sigh. He feels one of her fingertips drag across his lower lip, her touch lingering for a moment, and then she backs out of the elevator.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Stark,” Pepper says quietly, smiling shyly at him before turning away from him, walking across the lobby towards the front doors.

The elevator doors close in front of him, Tony staring dazedly at his reflection. He raises his bloodstained fingers to his lips, feeling the warmth of her breath, the slight tackiness of her lipstick, the buzz of mutual want and unspoken feelings thrumming through him.

Quickly, his finger jabs at the ‘doors open’ button, and he strides out of the elevator just as Pepper opens the front door.

“Merry Christmas, Ms. Potts!” Tony shouts, raising one hand in a wave.

Pepper looks over her shoulder at him, Tony can make out her grin in the dim light cast from the awnings above the entryway. Then she’s gone, Tony’s hand slowly lowering to his mouth.

“I’ve got to ask her what she’s doing for New Years,” Tony mutters to himself, pressing his fingers to his lips again. “Mistletoe. God, Potts, they say I’m smooth...”

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas bedford fallsssssss...


End file.
